


From Sophie's Journals — Author's Prologue & Sophie at Age 13

by Stormvoël (BushRat8)



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Cooking, Diary, Diary/Journal, F/M, Journal, Recipes, daily life, housekeeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 15:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16726449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BushRat8/pseuds/Stormvo%C3%ABl
Summary: Like most literate women and many men of her time, Sophie Grantham kept a diary of her daily life.  Much concerned the minutiae of work, but as time went on, more and more concerned a certain blue-eyed man who stole her heart and took it to sea with him.





	From Sophie's Journals — Author's Prologue & Sophie at Age 13

**Author's Note:**

> Sophie's Journals are a tie-in to the Barbossa/Innkeeper arc. Entries will be posted randomly, as is my custom with other stories, their titles all beginning with "From Sophie's Journals —" and followed by something more specific.
> 
> In some locations, "cream" was not understood as a separate cooking ingredient, as all milk was full-fat and the cream was not skimmed off. A call for "milk" in a recipe was more like light cream.
> 
> "Pimenta" is what we call allspice these days. Dried and fresh, it was — and is — used in everything throughout the Caribbean. 
> 
> Sophie notes that hot lemon water (or lemon tea) with honey is good for alleviating the symptoms of the common cold or a case of bronchitis, especially with a little brandy in it. Some remedies stay the same throughout the ages, and even if they don't cure anything, at least they taste good.

 

 

-oOo-   
Author's Prologue  
-oOo-  
  
  
  
  
  


 

  
During centuries past, journal-keeping was something a literate woman did throughout her life, and Sophie Grantham was no exception.  Being able to read and write — things that so many women could not do — meant that one exercised those abilities at every possible turn.  What women wrote ranged from shopping lists, recipes (or, as she says, a receipt), and letters, to extensive diaries that covered the span of their lives.   
  
I have always wanted to peek into Sophie's journal and see its entries at various points in her life.  It covers a period of time from the year before she meets Hector Barbossa, until the day she can bear to write no more.  Unlike most women, who carefully wrote in their journals at the end of the day, she keeps quill and ink and her diary open nearby and scribbles throughout each day as interesting events occur — they often add up to quite lengthy observations — so that she will not forget them.  
  
In addition to new situations, we will see her write about those which may already be familiar, but in an informal, less literary way, and her written speech will be typical of her time.  We will also see the aforementioned shopping lists, recipes, and letters, although she wrote those last for herself.  Even if she had wished to mail them, she'd no way to know where in the world Barbossa might be, and would not send them in any case.  They were written as a way to unburden herself of emotions she had no other way to express, and although they were neatly bundled and tied with a ribbon so she could keep them, they were never meant for Barbossa to read, lest he find her too demanding and clingy.  
  
But did he read them anyway?  Of course he did.  During his final visit to Grantham House before he died, Barbossa found Sophie's journals and some letters to him hidden in her bedroom armoire, spent hours reading as much as he could, took them back to the ship, and finished the rest of the entries there.  It broke his heart to discover the many things she'd been afraid to say to him, but by that point, he knew it was because he'd never said the words to tell her how very much he loved her, and he blamed himself for her fear.  However, once Calypso conveyed Barbossa's soul to Sophie's side upon his death, there was no tough reputation to uphold — no reason to regard himself as someone who had, at all costs, to keep up a severe and uncompromising appearance in front of his men — and so he did not hesitate to freely express to her all those gentle things he could never say in life.  
  
First, though, let us begin by reading a few diary entries she wrote as she was just entering her teens, for she has much to say about her life.  
  
Note that, unless there is a "time stamp," each bit is a snippet from a different day.  
  
  
  


 

  
  
  
-oOo-  
Sophie, Age 13  
-oOo-  
  
  
  
  


 

  
  
Nan has advanced me to the position of maid-of-all work today.  I do not know why she should say this as though she is giving me a gift, for it means naught except I shall need six more hours in the day to accomplish my tasks.  I am also to begin a serious tutelage in the kitchen in preparation for becoming the Cook of Grantham House, responsible for feeding both our lodgers and ourselves.  
  
I shall have to learn to do without sleep!  
  
  
  
-oOo-  
-oOo-  
  
  
  
I have learned this day my first receipt:  a light Breakfast Porridge.    
  
  
  
 _Water_  
  
 _Sweet spices, whichever are to hand and as many as possible, but if no others are available, take care to include pimenta, so that the effect will be similar_  
  
 _Sugar or honey, but not too much_  
  
 _A morsel of salt_  
  
 _Fine, fresh milk_  
  
 _Carrots, sliced into coins_  
  
 _Plantains, likewise_  
  
 _The green part of lime skins, grated_  
  
 _A bean of vanilla, split and soaked in milk_  
  
 _A knob of butter_

  
  
  
Boil first a measure of water with sweet spices to extract their best flavor, then add the carrots and plantains, cooking until soft.  Mash and beat with a fork until the mixture is smooth.  Add the milk, sugar or honey, vanilla-milk, and a sprinkle of salt, bringing to a simmer for a few minutes.  Beat again to incorporate all the ingredients.  Add the lime-skin and butter, stirring it in as it melts.  
  
I am pleased to say that our lodgers were much satisfied with this dish when I served it in the morning;  and, when Nan wasn't looking, I ate such a big portion that it gave me a bellyache from all the sweetness, to which I am not accustomed.  
  


  
  
-oOo-  
-oOo-  
  


  
  
From being in charge of merely making sure they're in place, I am now permanently tasked with fashioning a small convenience given to our lodgers:  cutting up the linen squares that lie aside the chamber pot.  It's quite disgusting to know, as I slide my scissors through the rags, what kind of end they will meet, but they are, after all, necessary if our house — and ourselves and our lodgers! — are to be kept at a minimal standard of cleanliness.  Then again, it's even more disgusting to empty the pot, only to discover that a lodger has not availed himself of them.  Perhaps I shall have to letter a card to lay atop the rag pile, instructing… no, not in their use — how horrid! — but that we should be thankful if the lodger would utilize as many as needed.  Ugh, that sounds terrible, too.  Hm, I shall have to think about this further.  
  
  
  
  
-oOo-  
-oOo-  
  
  
  
  
Nan has me now in charge of the bread.  Sometimes, she will buy it from the baker if we are terribly busy and I cannot both cook and clean, but I confess that I like to make it myself, for as I knead and pound the dough, I ofttimes see her face as she scolds me and orders me about.  I also like the way it turns out:  crusty on the outside, soft and ready to soak up butter and gravy and sweet condiments on the inside.  If I have no time to properly eat, a large crust slathered with soft butter and a dribble of honey will see me through the day in fine fashion.  
  
  
  
  
-oOo-  
-oOo-  
  
  
  
  
As cook, I have had my first distasteful experience with beheading chickens.  The first one flapped about and splattered me with blood — I do swear it was still alive even after the head was parted from its neck! — and the five of its friends that I put to death fared little better.  I fear I had best get used to it as I shall be spending the better part of my life in such butchery, for even if Nan did not insist upon it, I begin to take pride in my growing culinary skills and will not serve meat that I am unsure of.  I do not know how to butcher the whole of a large animal — it is not something I believe I wish to learn — but as for fowl… I want them fresh and alive before they are cooked for the table.  
  
  
   
  
-oOo-  
-oOo-  
  
  
  
  
Men!  I would sooner have them piss out the window than miss the chamber pot or wet their sheets and the mattress because they are so drunk.  Worse still was that the occupant of chamber #4 was not only wet, but soiled himself from both ends, and I'd rather burn the whole bed than have to wash any part of it.  Thank heaven he has chosen to leave, because I do not know how many more times I could have cleaned up his noisome excretions without getting sick!  
  
Afterwards, I _did_ get sick, but Nan only laughed and said it's like wringing the heads off chickens:  something I had better get used to, because men are often dirty pigs.  That was no comfort, especially as I felt pea-green and was vomiting copiously into a bucket at the time.  
  
  
  
  
-oOo-  
-oOo-  
  


  
  
I almost dropped a bag of flour today, which got me the flat of Nan's hand against my ear, whereupon I _did_ drop it.  I am fortunate in that it did not break, but only got a puff or two of white powder on the floor;  still, it was an excuse to berate me for being clumsy.  If I'm so clumsy (which I admit I am), then why have me doing so many things that will insure that I drop, trip on, fall down, or otherwise show off the fact that I have three feet, all of them on the left side?  
  
  
  
  
-oOo-  
-oOo-  
  
  
  
  
Today, I went to deliver a pitcher of water to a lodger and found him without his garments when he opened the door.  Though I quickly turned my eyes away from his nakedness, still, I saw more than I wished to, and mere inches away.  What strange beasts men are, with their outside parts that stand so tall!  I grow aware that the occasional lodger looks at me with the intent to unclothe and touch me with those parts — how exactly it is accomplished, I am not sure, although I do know I have inward parts that are in some way made to accommodate them, and that if they do, a child might result — and it does make me so very uneasy.  Oh, how I wish Nan was such a one to whom I might confide this uneasiness, but she would only slap my face for asking about such a thing and tell me never to speak of it again.  
  
  
  
  
-oOo-  
-oOo-  
  


  
  
My basic receipt for Lemon Water, which is refreshing on the hottest day, and removes unpleasant tastes from the mouth.

  
  
  
_A pitcher of water, as cold and clean as might be available._   
  
_The juice of several lemons, to taste.  The juice of a lime or two may be added._   
  
_Sugar or honey, to taste._

  
  
  
Mix all together and stir until the sweetening is dissolved.  No sweetening need be added if it is not desired, but do warn those who would drink it of its sharpness, and offer sugar or honey to be added upon drinking.  
  
If one has an abundance of limes in the pantry, a most delicious drink may be made by exchanging lime juice for the lemon.  
  
Ginger Water may be made by substituting a grated thumb of ginger to taste in place of the lemons, straining the ginger out afterward;  or, if one is in festive mood, both lemon and ginger may be added to the water.  This will taste best if a sweetener, however little in amount, is added.  
  
A note:  Ginger Water is a fine remedy for a roiling, upset stomach.  For that purpose, the ginger may also be added to tea.  For this reason, never let the kitchen go bare of ginger, as it is both good in taste, and for the settling of the body.  
  
Lemon Water should be served piping hot if one has a case of catarrh, and is especially effective with the addition of honey, some tea leaves, and a tiny pinch of red pepper;  or, instead of the pepper, a splash of brandy if available.   
  
  


  
  
-oOo-  
-oOo-  
  
  
  
  
  
Nan sent me to _The Cat's Eye_ alone today to fetch three day's worth of ale and wine.  As I rolled up to the storeroom door with my barrow, I was aware of the eyes of several patrons upon me, and it did make me so nervous.  I am but young yet, but I suspect that wouldn't stop some of the drunker among them from pursuing me.  I am reminded of the lodger who displayed himself so boldly to me recently, and am ashamed to admit that I now see these men as a collection of those parts which I fear may be in some way used upon me.  
  
I was fortunate, though, that the tavernkeeper's wife noticed my discomfort and waved everyone off, helping to load the ale-cask and bottles, taking my payment, and assuring me that I had nothing to fear.   
  
  
  
  
  
-oOo-  
-oOo-  
  
  


  
  
A kind gentleman, who has lodged with us for some number of years, has come for a final visit and said he will be retiring to his home in England.  I shall miss him, for he always had a smile for me and was never excessive in his demands.  But such is the uncertain life of sailors and other travelers in these isles:  the man you see today, you may never see again, nor know what became of him.  I am glad, though, to know that our visitor is returning to a good life, and I do believe I shall wrap up a portion of my plantain porridge for him to take on his ship, hoping he will find it a treat that reminds him of us as he voyages home.  
  


 

  
  
  
-oOo-


End file.
